


Frustration

by Mireille



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-10-21
Updated: 2004-10-21
Packaged: 2018-08-16 13:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8104486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mireille/pseuds/Mireille
Summary: Giles struggles against his better nature.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [soft_princess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soft_princess/gifts).



> Set during S3; Xander is 18, so the "underage" warning does not apply, but skip this if that distresses you.

It was possible, Giles thought, that he was going mad. 

That was really the only explanation for why, instead of filling out the requisition forms he needed to hand in to Snyder's secretary by eight o'clock tomorrow, he was standing behind the front desk, doing his best to not be obvious about watching the table where Willow was attempting to explain trigonometry to Xander. 

Or rather, about watching Xander, who gave no sign of being aware of anything other than the book he was currently scowling down at, his brow furrowed in concentration. The real madness, however, came from his urge to go over to Xander, to smooth out the frustration with fingers stroking lightly across Xander's forehead, rubbing Xander's temples in gentle circles until some of the tension faded from around his eyes. 

It would be impossible then, or nearly so, to walk away and leave Xander to his work--even if neither he nor Willow had fled the library in shock, which seemed highly unlikely--and so he might as well, assuming Xander was still there and not looking utterly horrified, trail his hand down the line of Xander's cheek, following the curve of his jaw until he could reach over and trace Xander's upper lip with his index finger. 

He tightened his hand on the pen he was holding, letting his other hand fall to his side, fingers curled tightly against his palm to still any ridiculous, risky movement he might be tempted to make. He wanted to _touch_ \--dark hair tamed from the shaggy mop Giles remembered from when he'd first known Xander, smooth skin, the maddening softness of Xander's lower lip, which--if Giles got close enough, he was certain he'd see--was reddened from where Xander had been chewing on it as he struggled with the Law of Cosines. 

He wanted to touch more than that, wanted--so badly that he curled his fingers more tightly, digging his nails into his palm to distract him from it--to show Xander exactly how much pleasure there was to be had in the touch of experienced hands--more than from his own hand, and surely more than Cordelia had ever done. 

Years ago, he would have taken what he wanted. Not forced Xander; he'd been many things, and none of them were something to be proud of, but while he was sure he'd seduced more than one person too high on drugs or magic to really know what was going on, he'd never refused to take no for an answer--why bother? there had always been someone else, back then. But he'd have made the attempt, at least, and he suspected that the right words, enough of a display of the very real affection he felt for the boy, and Xander would give in willingly.

But this was now, and forced or not, it wouldn't be right: at best, simply quite inappropriate, and at worst, emotional manipulation and callous exploitation of Xander's vulnerabilities. And he wasn't the sort of man to do that--certainly not in the service of no better cause than his own desires--not any more. 

And so he only stood there, trying to give a good impression of a man absorbed with his paperwork, while his fingernails dug red half-moon marks into the palm of one hand, and the other held a cheap school-issue ballpoint in suddenly clumsy fingers. 

And then, just as Willow closed her notebook in despair, Xander looked up, his eyes meeting Giles' own with a bewildered expression that suggested that he'd been fully aware of the intensity of, if not the reason for, Giles' gaze. Giles' fingers tightened on the pen, jerking it involuntarily across the paper and leaving a deep gouge, and when he opened his mouth to stammer out some sort of explanation, the sting of the shallow cuts on his palm reminded him what a mistake that would be, and he fell silent again.

Xander followed Willow out, with one last confused glance over his shoulder, and, as though Xander's earlier frustration had somehow been transferred to him, Giles' palm smacked down on the surface of the counter.


End file.
